


This Is Me Trying

by Visionsofdazzlingrooms



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Big feelings, Danny and Linda, F/M, Fights, Fluff, Hidden Feelings, Hugs, Kisses, Love, Nightmares, PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress, We’ll have to see, kind of, lindanny, maybe some smut, season six, season six rewrite, understanding and accepting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visionsofdazzlingrooms/pseuds/Visionsofdazzlingrooms
Summary: When Linda is shot, she suffers from Post traumatic stress disorder. She feels like she’s alone in her suffering, but she will find out someone else is suffering alongside her. Will they be able to navigate through these uncharted waters, or will they sink beneath the waves?A Blue Bloods Season Six rewrite.
Relationships: Danny Reagan/Linda Reagan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Shot Gun Shot In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with writing the final chapter for In Sickness And In Health, but it turned out very differently than intended, and I got to thinkin’. As much as I really enjoy season six, the way they portray Linda’s ptsd is almost laughable. They have a major character get shot, only talk about to for three episodes, and never speak of it again? 
> 
> I also hated how they portrayed Danny in season six. They had a person, who greatly and deeply cared for and about his wife, act like a bully towards her. And I just.. I don’t- I don’t get that. In other words, I’m gonna make Danny act like the caring being we know he is
> 
> So I am going to attempt a rewrite, with vague references and comments to the episodes. This story starts a week after Linda is released from the hospital

It is a Monday when it happened. It hits him like a shot gun shot it the dark. He realizes it has been a week since Linda was hospitalized. A week since she had been shot, a week since his whole world crumbled—twice. 

Danny remembers when Baez had told him the earth shattering news. She has muttered her surprise with fear in her voice. 

"What?" He has glanced over at her, and in that one glance, that one minuscule moment, he feels his heart shatter. "What?"

She just shakes her head again, not saying any words. Didn't she know that's terrible for someone already as high strung as he was? 

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Danny. But...."

"But what? What is it? Tell me!" He is focused on so many things all at once, and that damn anxiety kept rising higher and higher. 

"Linda's been shot."

Danny nearly stops driving when those words hit his ears and cements in his brain. "Linda's been... no, no, it can't be. You're playing a sick joke on me!"

"Danny."

They are one minute away from the hospital, just one minute. In one minute, he could see if everything is true. 

Back in the present, under the blankets with his wife, Danny remembers how he called for her, desperately wanting to see her for thirty seconds, just to tell her 'I love you' and that everything would be okay. 

But everything isn't okay. Linda had died- his wife had died twice on the operating table. The thought of not being with her makes him sick to his stomach. The thought of living without the one person who can completely ground him, the one person who makes his mood change with just a smile or a small laugh, really scares the living daylights out of him. So without thinking, without realizing all he has to do is pull that person close, kiss her forehead, and simply breath the scent of her shampoo to ground him once again, he flees to the bathroom like a coward. 

He slumps to the floor and cries again. It seems like that is all he did nowadays, cry and lose valuable sleep. He wishes things would be better, or rather, they never happened at all. Why did Linda have to get shot? What did she do to deserve it? Absolutely nothing, yet here she is, crying herself to sleep most nights, and waking up two hours later with nightmares and fear filled eyes. 

Danny roughly rubs his eye, banishing the tears. He shouldn't cry like this, in a bathroom at two a.m., away from the world. He hears a voice inside him tell him, "you need to talk to your wife about this."

Danny actually laughs out loud at that, mumbling a "yeah, right. She can't do a damn thing about it."

And before he can argue with himself once again (cause people do that, right? He's surely not going insane), he hears a scream. For three seconds, he thinks his mind could be playing tricks on him, as it often does nowadays. 

"Danny!"

But then he hears it again, and it's loud and clear and coming from the bedroom. "Linda." 

Danny quickly scrambles up and stumbles to the bed in the darkness. Linda's crying in bed, all curled up, and his heart breaks. "Linda?" He moves to his side of the bed and sits down, "honey, are you alright?"

Linda moves to hug his waist, her face buried in his side as she cries harder. "Don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me!" She tightens her grip, her cries so intense she starts coughing. 

"Leave you?" He detangles himself from her embrace, and furrows his brow when she quickly sits and seems to keep to herself. She's trying to hide her crying, trying to act like she's fine, but he knows she's not. So he slides under the covers, still sitting, and gently brings her to him. Once she's securely in his arms, he strokes her short hair. "I'd never leave you. Why would you think that?"

"Cause I'm whack." Her voice is mumbled and sob filled. 

"What?" He doesn't like how he can't understand her some of the times when she's crying. He feels like asking her to repeat her sentences means he's not entirely listening. (Which is a ridiculous thought, but if you're prone to self blame and hate, it makes perfect sense).

"Whack!" It's louder than Linda intends it to be. "People will look at me and say 'what a shame she's f***ed in the head'! They'll call me crazy and psycho and cuckoo."

"They won't say that," Danny chews his lip. Linda's really upset if she's cursing like that. "No one will say that. And if they do, they'll have to answer to me."

Linda smiled against him- he talks with such conviction some times it makes her smile. Surely he can't be serious? But he usually is serious when it comes to her. She's seen him almost rip someone's head off because they were hurting her.

"But they'll look at me in pity, and give me sorry glances and call me pathetic."

"And again, they'll have to deal with me if they say any of those things, or anything like those things. Cause you are not crazy or psycho." He tips her head up to force her to look him in the eyes. "You, my dear, are beautiful. And that's that."

Linda smiled through the halting tears, and nuzzles his neck with her nose. She feels good in his arms; it's cathartic when he holds her like this, protecting her from all the demons, real and imaginary. 

After he's sure her tears have stopped, Danny asks, "do you want to talk about it?"

She knows she should talk, because festering is never good, but all she wants is sleep and his arms around her body. "Can you just hold me? At least until I fall asleep."

"I'll hold you till you fall asleep and then some." 

As she snuggles up to him as close as she can get, he knows he needs to talk to her about this, about this fear that's piercing him in the heart. It can wait till morning though, since they both need their sleep.


	2. Something’s Wrong Here

Linda feels lost as she starts her journey of recovery. She's been in the hospital many times, but that's because she works there. The only times she has been checked into a hospital was for her pregnancies, that nasty head bump she acquired many many moon ago, and when she had been kidnapped... Crap. She has forgotten all about the kidnapping. It's stored away in a metaphorical box in her mind marked 'never ever open again'. And Danny's made sure she's forgotten about it. He acknowledges it, of course, but he doesn't talk about it. And after she was home for good, he worshiped her body for days on end, forcing her to forget. 

Linda shakes her head as she turns to her side in the morning. She frowns at the brown cane she's forced to use. She's not old she keeps telling herself; her balance just got out of whack when she was shot in the hip. And the stupid wooden thing is supposed to help her gain her balance back. She remembers what she told Danny years ago when he was moping about being shot. 

"Have you ever tried cursing at it? Maybe if you curse at it, it'll be like cursing the event, or the person. Might make you feel better."

So she tries it, "bugger off." Because bugger is better than the f-word.. supposedly. Bugger is pretty bad, but it's English, and they some how make curse words classy and sophisticated. 

"A good morning would suffice," Danny says from behind her. She only now realizes he was coming in for a good morning kiss. 

"No, not you. The cane. I was trying to do what I told you to do. Curse at it."

"Did it work?"

Linda thinks for a second, sighing out a "no."

"Maybe you just need practice?"

"What I need is a shower." She didn't know how much she missed the shower when she was in the hospital. 

"Can I-"

"No!" Linda quickly interrupts him. "No, I uh.." she gets out of bed too fast, and visibly tries not to wince or fall over. "I, uh, just... I can do it alone." She finishes weakly. 

"Oh. Okay, if that's what you want." He tries not to sound disappointed or offended or whatever the hell that tone is when he's surprised in a bad way, but he knows his words come out sad and dejected. 

Linda closes her eyes, swallowing, willing herself not to cry. "Yeah," it's a whisper, and for some moments, she just stands still. But then she gathers her clothes for the shower and heads into the en-suite, uncharacteristically locking the door behind her. In every other bathroom she's been in, she always locks the door. But the en-suite never gets locked- she and Danny like to surprise each other while showering and or bathing. But today, this morning, she feels like she needs her distance.

*********

"Do we really have to go to school?" Sean complains as Danny sets the scrambled eggs on his plate. 

"Yes."

"But Mom's hurt," he argues, sitting grumpily at the table.

Danny isn't expecting that excuse. "You still have to go to school."

"Rats," he mumbles as he tears off a piece of toast. 

He shakes his head and hands Jack a plate of his own. "You two better hurry up, cause you're already behind schedule."

So in true teenage fashion, the boys quickly scarf their breakfast and run up the stairs to burgs their teeth and get dressed in their uniforms. 

As the detective sits down to eat, he looks to the ceiling, wondering if his wife is okay. It's not like her to deny shower access so... vehemently, with such vigor. He wonders if she's truly okay, and as he sits, the feeling of something wrongs keeps nagging, nagging, nagging until he finally stands and takes the stairs to their bedroom. 

Almost as if he's scared of what behind the en-suite door, he knocks gingerly. "Linda? Honey, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. I'm... fine!"

Danny doesn't like how that sounds, so he tries the door knob, and is surprised to find it locked. "Linda, I don't like you being in there alone... are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah!" She unintentionally squeaks. "Yeah, I'm just getting dressed. Um.." she stumbles into her sweat pants, not wanting to wear jeans or anything very fitting or curve hugging. "Could you get the boys to school? I'm not used to the pain meds yet, and I, um, I don't feel that great."

"I'll take 'em. Can you come out though? Or at least open the door?"

"In a second!" She pulls a loose sweater over her head and unlocks the door. She walks out like nothing's happened, like she hasn't been slowly driving Danny into a worry frenzy. 

"Don't over exert yourself," he says carefully, as he furrows his brows. Something isn't right, his gut screams at him.

"I won't. I'm going to clean a little, I think. Maybe bake something. But I'll be careful."

"Okay...." he looks at the clock on the dresser, it's time to go- past time to go. "I better get the kids off to school. Love you," he kisses her, breathing in the smell of her orange-scented body wash.

"I love you more," she wraps her arms around him, wishing he'd stay put.

"I love you most," he leaves her with two more sweet kisses before herding the kids out the door and into the car. 

Linda walks to the other side of the house, to the guest bathroom, to watch them leave. She feels something rising in her gut, and she pushes it down. Two more days she gets to spend with Danny until he’ll be forced to go back to work. And as those days approach, she notices more fear and more anxiety and more panic well up inside her. She bites her lip, spinning her wedding ring around her finger. 

What if he doesn’t come back to her? What if the kids don’t come back? What if she’s left alone? How will she survive without her family? Without her husband, her rock, her safe haven, her love, her world?

“He’s coming home, you know that, stupid,” Linda tells herself and pries herself away from the window. She’ll clean the bedrooms, then bake something, anything to get her mind away from itself.


	3. What’s Bothering You?

Linda stands by the window, watching for her husband's car. "Where is he?" She mumbles, rocking nervously on her toes. 

"Relax, Mom," Jack says, walking through the living room. "He's probably stuck in traffic."

"Yeah," she nods as she rubs her arms, "traffic."

He cocks his head, "Mom, are you okay?"

"I- I'm fine, sweetie. I'm just worried about your Dad."

"Dad's fine!" The teenager bounds up the stairs. 

The blonde chews her lip as she counts the minutes until she sees a car pull up in the driveway. 

A car door slams, and Danny walks to the front door. He opens it, "hey, I'm—" 

Linda launches herself at him, clinging to his shoulders. She kisses his neck, breathing in his cologne and stale coffee.   
"—home."

"You came home!"

".... don't I usually?"

As if realizing a mistake, Linda backs away. She pushes her hair back and clears her throat. "I just..." Getting defensive, she stiffens. "Is it such a crime to be happy that you're home?" 

"What's with the tone?"

"There is no tone!" She crosses her arms, setting her jaw  
.   
"There is a tone, Linda, and you know it."

"Oh. So I can't be pissed? I have to be happy all the time? Sunshine and lollipops, is that it?" 

Danny sighs, getting angry and annoyed. "I never said that-"

"But you thought it."

"What is your problem?"

"Problem? Problem?! Because I'm mad, I have a problem?!" She grunts and breezes pass him to the stairs. "Your dinner's in the microwave. Of course, You won't like it."

Danny nearly growls as he watches Linda storm up the stairs. He wonders what had gotten into her lately. First, every morning, she begs him to stay home. Then, she'll call him too many times during his tour. When he comes home, she'll act happy to see him. He'll make snarky remark at some point in the evening, and she'll go off the rails. Then he'll find her crying in the bathroom, and once he comforts her, all will be well again. In the morning, it will happen all over again. It’s been going go like this ever since he went back to work. 

Danny shakes his head as he grabs a beer. He takes a long sip, contemplating his wife's behavior. Suddenly, it hits him like a ton of bricks. "Of course!" He puts the beer down and walks to his bedroom, stopping to say hello to his sons. When he sees the bedroom vacant, but the bathroom door closed, he sits on the bed, waiting for Linda to come out. 

Linda walks out, seemingly annoyed. When she sees Danny, she huffs, "What do you want?"

"I think it's time you and I have one of our world famous talks."

Linda sits on the bed, not looking at him. "What kind of talk?"

"Linda... I wanna ask you something... how come you didn't want me to go to work today?" He knows the answer; he just needs his wife to say it. 

"I wanna be with you," Linda shrugs, finally looking at him. 

"I wanna be with you, too, sweetie. But, lately... you've been clingy. Don't get me wrong— I like your hugs and kisses; they're very nice and always make my day better.... but if something's bothering you, I need to know." He rubs her back, right above her wound. 

She winces slightly, "I'm fine."

"Are you upset about something?"

"I said I'm fine." She repeats, quite annoyed, walking to the wardrobe. 

"Well, then, I guess you won't be begging me to stay home anymore." 

Linda stops what she is doing. She looks down, "are you mad at me?"

"No, honey, I'm not mad at you. I just need to know what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me!”

"Lin-"

"I promise." She turns around and manages a smile, "I'm fine."

"If you're fine, why are you playing with your pendant?"

She stalls her movements; whenever she plays with the small charms on her necklace, something is bothering her. "Just fidgety."

Danny stands and walks to her. He puts his hands on her shoulders, "I need to know what's wrong."

"Why?" She focuses on his tie, not wanting to look him in the eye. If she does, and if she sees the concern she knows is there, she'd break, and she didn't want to break. 

"Because we made a commitment, baby. For better or worse. And right now, you're having a worst. I need to know so I can make you feel better." He tilts her chin up, and looks in her blue eyes. He kisses her sweetly, then brushes her bangs back. "Tell me what's wrong."

Linda sighs and looks down. She slips from his grip and walks to the window. Her back towards him, she starts talking. "What if you go to work, and I never see you again? What if you get hurt, and I don't get a chance to say goodbye? I'd never be able to talk to you, or hug you, or kiss you, or look into those handsome hazel eyes of yours. Which I know are showing concern right now." She turns around, tears welling in her eyes, "I don't want you dying!" She roughly rubs her eye, "and now I'm crying and I don't want to cry! I'm sick and tired of crying! I'm sick of having nightmares! I'm tired of not being able to sleep! I'm sick and tired of hurting all the time! And I hate that I always end up snapping at you, cause I know you're doing your best! And I hate how I'm not being a good wife—"

"Wait a minute. Who says you're not being a good wife? I th-"

"I say! I can't cook without having to sit on a barstool. I can't do laundry without hurting. And I can't love you like you deserve cause I hate how the scars look, and you'll hate them too, and then you won't want to be with me. I jus' wan' things to go back to normal! The way they were, before I got shot."

Danny frowns and pulls his wife into his arms. He rocks her back and forth, kissing her head. "You're doing a great job, baby. Jack and Sean can help with dinner; it's high time those two learn to cook. And they can help with laundry, which is much easier to figure out than cooking. And, honey-" he sighs as she takes in a ragged breath. "We agreed from the get-go that if one of us wasn't comfortable during sex, we'd stop right away." 

"But you're mad because I'm not giving you any," Linda mumbles into his chest and through her tears. 

"No, no, I'm not mad, Linda. I just want you to get better, and I can wait until you're ready to have sex again." Danny pulls back to look her in the eye, "right now, we're focusing on you. And I don't know how to help you, Linda. You have PTSD, and I understand that. A lot. But if you recall, I had no idea how to get over it."

She smirks in remembrance, "I remember." 

"You need help from someone who can really help you... you and I both know I don't have the patience for that."

Linda chuckles, "you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad. I'm just concerned... how 'bout this, tomorrow, we'll call the shrink the hospital recommended. We'll see what she has to say, okay?"

"Okay.... I'm sorry I snapped at you. You don't deserve it."

"It's okay, Linda." Danny hugs her tightly, vowing he'd do anything to protect her and to help her out of her current state. He just has no idea she'd get worse before she got better...

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, the story title and chapter title are from Taylor Swift songs. What can I say? She’s my favorite singer/song writer


End file.
